Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
WOODSTOCK 50 FREEDOM CONCERT
THE SOUL ROCK PAINTERS
THE STORY OF THE SOUL ROCK PAINTERS
The girl dreamed. Laying by her father, she fell asleep. Her father was worried, thinking of how to support his family' Her family's dilemma was to have enough money to live on, and a lack of security.
In her dream, the girl found herself among a tribe of people. The tribe would go into the mountain, and climb to the ridge top, where the big rock caves were. She walked with these people as one of them, with her father there too, as they walked on the bright moonlight, higher up where the stars were clear as shards of glass. The moon reflected the sun on the water of the mountain lake, and the stars were like the lights of heaven. This was the Earth world in its greatest glory.
As they rose to the top of the rock faces, the people sat and waited. It was not long, for the bright swirling colored rays swept across the sky, and a profound silence filled the air. The lights danced in the aurora borealis, the night lights reflecting from some unknown source, and raised the spirit of the people so greatly, to enjoy the wonder of nature and the story of the Gods, now as close as their hearts. This was the devotion of the people, and a glory of nature.
Now she walked into the cave, where the star painters would paint the colors and light, and tell their stories, of how the Aurora shined at night, and how the Earth and Nature kept them alive. The Soul Rock Painters stood along the rock caverns, and painted their hearts, and what they had seen, to tell the ancient story of the world, and how they came to live in it. It seemed as if the rock and the paints were alive, in the luminiscent traces and bold lines they tried to paint now just what they had seen, but to capture the spirit itself. In the Soul Rocks, above the mountain of God, by the great lakes in the dawn of man, they had lived.
She leaned down and felt the rock, and put her ears right up to it. She listened, and from somewhere there came a sound, something that she knew had always been there, not a physical sound coming from the people, nor of the Earth, but it was a presence, an awareness within her, which she was a part of.
It was then the golden love came to her. It opened her, and she felt the music of the sound, was not outside her, but that it was in the love she felt within. This she knew was always with her, but now it seemed, she was the sound, and the sound was her. Her father and the other rock painters came to her side, and everyone in the cave listened carefully. Then they all rose to see the light outside had become very bright, as the dance of the aurora lights shown into the cave. She looked out with the others into the world, and they could see, they were the painters of the world.
The girl slowly awoke, drifting in limbo between this ancient world and her home. She remembered in vivid detail, the aurora, the painting, the sound in the rock. As she opened her eyes, she saw her father still sleeping, so she got up and went outside to see the morning sun just rising over the horizon. The clouds were multi-colored in the rays of this morning light, and there was no mistaking the reflection of the dream. She felt the most gentle and beautiful love, and a sense of gratitude, and feeling so much love, which she wanted to give out. In the lights she almost felt a master being there, some great father of time and love, who she almost could make out in the clouds and dawn of the day.
She went back inside, and found her father just awakening. He smiled broadly, to see his daughter there, and shook his head. He said, "Oh my dear one, how good it is, you are here. I had a most wonderful dream."
She spoke right up, "Did you see the lights, Papa, and hear the sound from the rocks?" He had indeed, and in fact, he described the paintings on the rock, just as she had seen them. He had seen the Aurora and the spirit Mountain. And he knew they had long ago lived, just as in the dream, so now today they lived, again. They both realized what it meant. They would survive, and that they could paint their lives, just as the Soul Rock Painters had painted their's long ago. The sound and light were eternal. And in Soul, they had seen and heard the great story, the story of life.
"Yes, Papa. That is what it is. We can paint the world of our life. And he said back to her, "Yes my angel, and the better we do so, the better we will know the song, which is singing in our life."
And then he said, "You know what, darling. I have an idea. An idea for a way I can earn a living, and make our way. Thank you for it was you who told me about this in the dream. You said, Paint the picture and it will come to pass."
The girl dreamed. Laying by her father, she fell asleep. Her father was worried, thinking of how to support his family' Her family's dilemma was to have enough money to live on, and a lack of security.
In her dream, the girl found herself among a tribe of people. The tribe would go into the mountain, and climb to the ridge top, where the big rock caves were. She walked with these people as one of them, with her father there too, as they walked on the bright moonlight, higher up where the stars were clear as shards of glass. The moon reflected the sun on the water of the mountain lake, and the stars were like the lights of heaven. This was the Earth world in its greatest glory.
As they rose to the top of the rock faces, the people sat and waited. It was not long, for the bright swirling colored rays swept across the sky, and a profound silence filled the air. The lights danced in the aurora borealis, the night lights reflecting from some unknown source, and raised the spirit of the people so greatly, to enjoy the wonder of nature and the story of the Gods, now as close as their hearts. This was the devotion of the people, and a glory of nature.
Now she walked into the cave, where the star painters would paint the colors and light, and tell their stories, of how the Aurora shined at night, and how the Earth and Nature kept them alive. The Soul Rock Painters stood along the rock caverns, and painted their hearts, and what they had seen, to tell the ancient story of the world, and how they came to live in it. It seemed as if the rock and the paints were alive, in the luminiscent traces and bold lines they tried to paint now just what they had seen, but to capture the spirit itself. In the Soul Rocks, above the mountain of God, by the great lakes in the dawn of man, they had lived.
She leaned down and felt the rock, and put her ears right up to it. She listened, and from somewhere there came a sound, something that she knew had always been there, not a physical sound coming from the people, nor of the Earth, but it was a presence, an awareness within her, which she was a part of.
It was then the golden love came to her. It opened her, and she felt the music of the sound, was not outside her, but that it was in the love she felt within. This she knew was always with her, but now it seemed, she was the sound, and the sound was her. Her father and the other rock painters came to her side, and everyone in the cave listened carefully. Then they all rose to see the light outside had become very bright, as the dance of the aurora lights shown into the cave. She looked out with the others into the world, and they could see, they were the painters of the world.
The girl slowly awoke, drifting in limbo between this ancient world and her home. She remembered in vivid detail, the aurora, the painting, the sound in the rock. As she opened her eyes, she saw her father still sleeping, so she got up and went outside to see the morning sun just rising over the horizon. The clouds were multi-colored in the rays of this morning light, and there was no mistaking the reflection of the dream. She felt the most gentle and beautiful love, and a sense of gratitude, and feeling so much love, which she wanted to give out. In the lights she almost felt a master being there, some great father of time and love, who she almost could make out in the clouds and dawn of the day.
She went back inside, and found her father just awakening. He smiled broadly, to see his daughter there, and shook his head. He said, "Oh my dear one, how good it is, you are here. I had a most wonderful dream."
She spoke right up, "Did you see the lights, Papa, and hear the sound from the rocks?" He had indeed, and in fact, he described the paintings on the rock, just as she had seen them. He had seen the Aurora and the spirit Mountain. And he knew they had long ago lived, just as in the dream, so now today they lived, again. They both realized what it meant. They would survive, and that they could paint their lives, just as the Soul Rock Painters had painted their's long ago. The sound and light were eternal. And in Soul, they had seen and heard the great story, the story of life.
"Yes, Papa. That is what it is. We can paint the world of our life. And he said back to her, "Yes my angel, and the better we do so, the better we will know the song, which is singing in our life."
And then he said, "You know what, darling. I have an idea. An idea for a way I can earn a living, and make our way. Thank you for it was you who told me about this in the dream. You said, Paint the picture and it will come to pass."
PARIS OR CLEVELAND? ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAME
About Me
- Paneagle
- EAGLE WORKS: email correspondence & letters, research and novels, e-books, music, songwriting, self-help, poetry, non-fiction, and innovative software text. Blogspots of value to individuals and those living today in our fast paced technological world. Author/Galactician (35+ years experience) developed PANDATA2000 and EAGLE WORKS now presents E-Books DESTINY, DANCING IN THE KITCHEN, THE AMERIGINAL, SOUL OF STARS, ORPHEUS LIVES, PSIENCE, and the PANEAGLE Blogspot online Best to all from Paneagle
My Blog List
-
-
LOVE SIGNS IN ACTION14 years ago
Rock Garden
12 GREATEST OF ALL TIME; Died early, ahead of their time, moved on to a place in heaven, where they are not being told what to do or be a slave to money, church, or country; why they sing freely today and we can hear the song forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment